


is that my sweater

by skreamingninja



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Drarry, M/M, well idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 12:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skreamingninja/pseuds/skreamingninja
Summary: Draco steals Harry's sweater. It's a thing.





	is that my sweater

“Is that my sweater?”  
Draco froze, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He could feel his face getting hot as he turned around to face Potter. He caught Potter staring at his chest and his breath caught. He spent a moment taking in the view of the man before him, and then cleared his throat and brought Potter’s attention away from the shirt and up to his face.  
“Of course not. I wouldn’t sully myself with your clothing.”  
Potter raised his eyebrow and it shot up under his messy hair. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame.  
“Oh really? Malfoy. It’s got the stain on it from the tea I spilled two days ago.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I must have spilled something on it during lunch.”  
He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the spot and whispered a Scourgify under his breath.  
“See? Never happened. And your sweater never would have held up against my magic, it’s far too inferior.” He smirked up at Potter, daring him to question his story.   
Potter laughed and shook his head.  
“Whatever, Malfoy. Just don’t keep it forever.”  
He turned and left the office, and Draco could hear him saying something about it not even being that cold under his breath. 

///

“Malfoy, I really need my sweater back. Hermione signed us up to go to this Ministry Ball and it’s kind of the nicest shirt I own.”  
Malfoy scoffed, not looking up from the papers on his desk.  
“That sweater can’t be the nicest thing you own. It’s dreadful. And I don’t have it. You must have misplaced it.”  
Harry closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. It had been weeks since his sweater disappeared and he’d seen Malfoy wear it several times. This was maddening.   
“Bollocks, Malfoy. I know you have it. I don’t believe you for a second. You were the only one with access to the office when it vanished.”  
Malfoy finally met Harry’s eyes.   
“And what would I want with your sweater?”  
“I don’t know, Malfoy. Maybe you cuddle with it at night. How am I supposed to know?”  
Malfoy’s mouth set in a line as he broke eye contact, his eyes darting around the room.  
Harry watched Malfoy’s cheeks turn pink, just like every time he brought up his sweater. He fought the smile playing at his lips as he watched how flustered Malfoy got. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how flustered he could make Malfoy, how he wanted to be the one to be the one to bring the blush to his face, to , He shook his head.  
“Listen, I don’t care why you have it. I just need it back.”  
Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He looked back down at his paperwork.  
“Maybe a house elf threw it out thinking it was rubbish. You probably left it somewhere else in the building, I don’t know why you’re accusing me.”   
Harry rolled his eyes and got up from his desk, muttering about how much of a pain in the arse Malfoy was as he left the room.

///

Draco stood in front of his closet, staring at the soft green sweater hanging there. Fine, he had stolen it from Potter. At the time, it was just to get the office tidied up. He was so tired of the perfect Harry Potter leaving their shared office a mess and expecting no consequences.   
And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to give it back.  
The first night he brought it home, he had found himself holding it to his face, inhaling deeply the strong, musky scent of Potter. He could almost pretend that Potter had been here, that he’d shared Draco’s space.  
But that would never happen.  
They may be getting along alright now, but he would never be forgiven for the things he did during the war. Before the war. To Potter. To his friends. To innocent people.   
Draco wasn’t proud of who he had been, and he had been working hard to be a better person, but his Dark Mark was a reminder that he would never be able to escape his past. And Harry would never be able to see past that.   
And he shouldn’t.

///

Harry sighed. Hermione had taken him out to get a new outfit for the Ball, and all he could think about was how Malfoy was still holding his sweater hostage. He pictured Malfoy wearing it at his flat, curled up with a book, a cup of tea by his side. He took a shaky breath in. This wasn’t helpful. He had to stop pining over Malfoy. It wasn’t healthy.   
“Harry, come try this on.”  
Harry rolled his eyes. How many outfits was Hermione going to force him into?  
“I don’t understand why he won’t just give me the damn sweater back. I shouldn’t even be having to do this.” He muttered and Hermione patted his shoulder.  
“You needed some new clothes, anyway. Just let him keep it.”  
“But why?” Harry sighed again. “It doesn’t make any sense. He spent years tormenting me and suddenly he wants to snuggle up in my clothes? Is he trying to torture me or something? I don’t trust him.”  
Now it was Hermione’s turn to sigh. She turned to face Harry and put her hand on her hip.  
“First of all, that’s a lie. You trust him with your life or you wouldn’t go on those missions with him. Secondly, that’s not who he is anymore. You know it and I know it. Hell, even Ron knows it. And thirdly, that’s the fifth time you’ve brought up that sweater today. Maybe you’ve got something you need to work through?”   
She raised her eyebrows at him, staring him down. Harry blushed and looked at his feet.  
“Now. Try this on. We need to find something that fits.”

///  
“Listen. You can keep my sweater. Hermione replaced it. So.”  
Draco stopped walking and looked over at Harry.   
“Really? Now is when you want to bring this up? We’re about to enter a house where there’s been reports of some really dark magic happening and NOW you wanna bring up the sweater?”  
“Well, Hermione said I needed to work through some things and that’s what I’ve been doing. And just now I’ve come to the conclusion that you can keep it.”   
Draco ran his hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact with Harry.  
“So. Now we can go in and take care of this. Right, Malfoy?”  
Draco nodded, and turned back to the house, pulling out his wand. He cast a quick Muffliato, and they slowly approached the front door, Harry close behind Draco. When they reached the porch, Harry did a quick scan for traps, and not finding any, Draco whispered an Alohomora and quietly opened the door.   
Draco was the first into the house. And then suddenly there was darkness.

///

Harry watched Malfoy cross the threshold and immediately start to crumple to the floor. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be happening. He had checked for hidden hexes, he couldn’t detect any. He never missed them. Had he been too distracted? Maybe bringing up the sweater had been a bad idea, because it had brought that image back to his mind, of Draco wearing it at home. He let out a strangled cry as he watched Draco hit the ground, and sent off a Patronus for back up.   
“Draco!!”  
No response.  
He just lay there on the ground, completely still.  
He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. This was all Harry’s fault and all of a sudden he couldn’t get enough air. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.  
And then suddenly he was standing on the porch, just outside of the door frame. He didn’t remember moving. He scanned again for any kind of wards or spells. Nothing.  
So either Draco entering the house used up any spells, or they were undetectable.  
Harry took a deep breath and took a step inside the house.

///

Draco awoke in a strange bed, Harry asleep in a chair by his side.  
He blinked several times and tried to sit up. Looking around the room he recognized it as an intensive care unit at Saint Mungo’s. What had happened? How did he get here?  
He remembered being on a mission and talking about that stupid sweater and then…   
He looked over at Harry, he was leaned over the hospital bed, his face buried in the crook of his arm. Draco shifted a bit and noticed his hand was warm. He looked down and Harry had it in a tight grip, even in his sleep.   
Draco cleared his throat loudly, and Harry shot up in his seat.   
“Draco? Merlin, you’ve been out for days. They couldn’t figure out what spell had hit you! We thought you were never going to wake up, I-”  
He stopped as Draco glanced down, squeezing his hand.  
“Oh.” Harry pulled his own hand away and into his lap, his face turning red. “I just. Um.”  
Draco couldn’t fight the grin from spreading across his face.  
“Who said you could let go?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to get this written and posted before I went to work today so I didn't reread or anything so hopefully it's okay. Also I meant to loop back around to the sweater OH WELL


End file.
